Dire Concerns of the Noldor Race
by Min Daae
Summary: Another foray into humor. Feanorians Need to Get Laid. Curufin is determined to do something about this, Celegorm attempts attempts! diplomacy, and everyone and their mother makes fun of Caranthir. Snark, silliness, and pseudocanon abound.


"We have to do something about this," Curufin said firmly. "It is simply no longer _acceptable._"

"Easy to say," Caranthir muttered. "Harder to do, apparently." The look he got from Curufin was withering.

"Not that you, brother, have been making any real effort, _I might note._" If there was a slightly nasty, almost vindictive note to Curufin's voice, Caranthir perhaps wisely chose to ignore it, and they lapsed into silence for a while.

"I'm not," Celegorm started to say, only to have two formidable glares thrust upon him. He put up his hands quickly. "All right, all right."

"_So,_" said Curufin, with a slight air of exasperation – not that this was unusual, it seemed to be his default state among his siblings – "Due to the miserable failure of attempts thus far-"

"I resent that," Caranthir noted dryly, and to his annoyance Celegorm mussed his hair.

"Doesn't mean it's not true."

"-due to the miserable failure of attempts thus far," Curufin said again, slightly louder, "I think it time that we discuss a new stratagem and form an appropriate plan."

Caranthir snorted. "You and your _plans, _Kurvo. Even though they never work." Curufin flushed deeply, expression bordering on mutinous, and Celegorm smoothed thing over with his heavy sigh and complaint that "I thought we were going to _do _something."

"We are," Caranthir said, leaning back on his hands. "Curufin wants a lady. And he's dragging us along with him." He hummed the opening line of something cut off too quickly to be recognizable, but almost certainly bawdy.

"Don't tell me you don't," Curufin hissed, poking Caranthir's stomach with a stick. "At least you could find someone else to make eyes at other than Angárato."

Caranthir's ruddy complexion went even darker, though it was not clear if it was with anger or embarrassment. "At least I'm not a little swine," he said hotly, and only didn't rise because Celegorm was holding him down by the back of his shirt.

Their elder brother was, however, frowning. "I already _have,_" he began to protest, and Curufin muffled a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

Caranthir started to say something suspect about Curufin's circumstances of birth, but was cut off when Celegorm elbowed him in the ribs, hard. "Fine, fine. For the sake of argument, Kurvo, what's your plan?"

"He doesn't have one yet," Caranthir managed to say, clutching his ribs, and Curufin glared at him, only to admit a few minutes later, "I don't have one yet."

Celegorm sighed. "If you don't have any idea what you're doing, what's the point of this? I told Ireth I'd meet her this afternoon and after _her _I wanted to look for Artanis."

"At least _one _of us has no trouble finding ladies to fall in his lap," Caranthir muttered, and Celegorm mussed his hair again, color pinking his cheeks.

"It's not like that."

"Oh, sure," Caranthir said, almost grinning. "Not like that. I'm just certain. And of course you've never noticed how many people just _happen _to wander by when you're sparring and how many of them _happen _to be female."

The color in Celegorm's face heightened to red and spread to his ears. "You sound like Angamaitë," he retorted, to which Caranthir's grin vanished and he nearly growled.

"I do not."

"What you both sound like," said Curufin irritably, "Is idiots. Just because I don't have a concrete plan _yet _doesn't mean I don't have ideas. Sit _down, _Turco, and _listen._"

"Or else," muttered Caranthir, putting his chin in his hands. "For I am the great Curufinwë. Ooga-booga." This time the stick whacked him across the back of his head.

"Stop that," Celegorm said to both of them, peevishly, and flopped back down on the ground. "All right, fine. What're your ideas, then? Go ahead."

Curufin shot one last glare in Caranthir's direction before answering. "Well. It seems to me that we have plenty to be proud of." A mutter from Caranthir that sounded suspiciously like 'arrogant prick' as he rubbed the back of his head. Celegorm didn't even blink, though Curufin's chin lifted slightly.

"—and plenty to offer. So as I was beginning to say, it does not seem _reasonable _that we, of all people, should by any means be left alone." He paused, slightly, perhaps for effect. "After all, even Findarato has a woman on his arm, and he's-"

"The day anyone chooses you over Findarato," said Caranthir dryly, barely looking up, "Is the day I declare my devotion to Angárato."

Curufin's eyes glinted with annoyance. "That is to say, any day now?" Celegorm dragged Caranthir down again even as he half rose with a hiss of anger.

"And the day anyone kisses you voluntarily I will eat my sword," Caranthir spat. Curufin smiled innocently.

"Then I'm sure I shall enjoy feeding it to you myself, brother mine."

"Both of you," Celegorm said with even more exasperation. "Are – never mind. It's not that _hard, _all right?"

"Easy for you to say," Caranthir muttered, subsiding, if barely. "Not all of us have – what was it? The face of a Maia." Celegorm went bright red again, and there was nothing gradual about it.

"No one said _that. _Who said that?" A deeper frown. "No one said that."

"Not in your hearing, maybe," Caranthir said, grinning a little wryly, and Curufin looked as though he very much wanted to hit someone with a stick again. He kept himself to simply clearing his throat, loudly. "_At any rate _I think it may be first and most important to narrow the field of focus. Pick one and pursue her. After all – to use an analogy you _might _understand – hunting specific game is more often fruitful than casting a wide net."

"That's fishing," Celegorm corrected almost absently, just as Caranthir added, "Are you_ planning_ to gut your chosen female? Because that's kind of the point of hunting, isn't it-"

"That is an oversimplification," Celegorm said, affronted, and Curufin looked, once again, mutinous.

"Of course not. Don't be absurd. And if anyone was interested-"

"Which no one is," murmured Caranthir, and Celegorm whacked him this time, though only with the flat of his hand. Curufin merely took a dignified breath and paused a moment.

"—I have made _my _decision of the lady I will favor."

"Go on," Caranthir muttered. "Tell us who she is so we can warn her in time." Curufin's glare this time was appropriately haughty.

"It's only a pity, Carnistir, that whoever you choose must needs be disinclined to attach herself to you, seeing as you look like Huan's back end and have the mouth of a _nauco-_"

"Now hold on," Celegorm started, seeming torn between frowning and laughing, but Caranthir's face crumpled with anger.

"You're not so fine yourself, you little beast. At least I didn't get myself a punch in the nose from a _girl._"

Curufin's expression darkened. "And at least I don't follow that blond whelp around like some kind of – stupid puppy!"

"Take that back!" Roared Caranthir, and from there it only devolved into flying fists. Eventually they were more friendly than otherwise, and the bruises they trooped home with were something they could all be proud of.

Caranthir caught up to Celegorm, Curufin a little ways ahead. "Did you get her name? I really think we should warn her," he said, and Celegorm shoved him into the ivy just off the trail.

"Don't worry about it. Look what happened the last time he tried to flirt with someone."

"That's Artanis," Caranthir said, glowering at Celegorm, but seemed mollified when his brother helped him up.

"I think it'll be fine," Celegorm said stoutly, and paused just a moment before turning, at least halfway. "Of course, that does leave you…"

"Oh, shove it," Caranthir muttered, increasing his pace to a stalk, and Celegorm mussed his hair again.

"You can practice with me tomorrow," Celegorm offered, magnanimously. "Maybe someone'll even turn up."

"Not while they're looking at you," Caranthir muttered, but the offer itself did make him feel a little lighter. He snuck a look sideways, but was only silent for a few seconds. "Is it really true that you and Ireth are-"

Celegorm's face turned pink again. "None of your business," he said a little too crisply. "We're not doing anything that's not allowed."

"I'm sure you're just friends, too," Caranthir murmured, and the color deepened.

"Oh, shove it," Celegorm said, but Caranthir thought he saw a little flicker of a slightly dreamy smile. He stored that away to laugh at later; for the moment, it was almost – well, as Angrod would have said, _cute. _

(He wondered if punching Angrod would make Curufin stop harping about that. Probably not. Knowing Curufin, it would probably make him harp more.

Brothers were, he thought, stupid sometimes.)


End file.
